


Les Amis de l'Eurovision

by purple_embroidery



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Because I can, Eurovision, Gen, Little Bits of French Dialogue, M/M, Pining Grantaire, Wildly OOC, and how little I know about performing or guitars, can you all tell how much I love Eurovision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:34:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_embroidery/pseuds/purple_embroidery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What if we just appeal to the committee? Tell them we want to perform with all seven of us? Les Amis only works because we have all seven performers working together."</p><p>Les Amis de l'ABC are selected to perform at Eurovision 2014. The rules seem designed to make R's life hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Amis de l'Eurovision

**Author's Note:**

> So I have never been to France. Or Denmark. I just really love Les Mis and Eurovision.
> 
> (I wrote this instead of sleeping. If you recognise it, it's not mine. If it's a typo, it's definitely mine.)

Les Amis de l’ABC had been selected as France’s entry into Eurovision. When their manager, Joly, came in with the news, the room exploded. Courf was dancing on a table,  Bahorel had fist-bumped everyone in the room, Feuilly had a grin on his face so big it looked like it reached his ears. R sat in the corner and watched Enjolras closely, admiring from afar the delighted expression their lead singer suddenly wore.

And then Joly started reading out the rules.

"Rule reminders. Okay, so it can’t be a cover, that’s fine, released within the last six months or a brand new number, that’s fine too, only six performers allowed onstage… oh."

And suddenly the room was just a bit quieter. The seven band members all looked stricken, and everyone else was avoiding eye contact.

Enjolras stopped smiling and stood up with a determined look on his face. “I’ll stay off. You guys can just record my part, I do it the same every time anyway.” 

Jehan started pacing, with a thoughtful look. “No, you can’t have pre-recorded vocals, that’s another rule, so Enjolras, you and I need to be onstage if we’re going to stick with performing “One More Dawn”. Can we pick another song? One that just Enjolras sings in, maybe? I only play guitar in “Lonely Soul”, how about we switch?”

Courfeyrac hopped off the table and pulled Jehan down to the couch with him as he sat down. “We need you too, Jehan, you’re by far the cutest. Except for me, of course.”

Feuilly looked pained. “Can we do rock-paper-scissors? I don’t want to have to vote one of us out.”

Enjolras frowned. “What if we just appeal to the committee? Tell them we want to perform with all seven of us? Les Amis only works because we have all seven performers working together.”

Joly frowned. “Other groups have had to pull members,  _Mandinga_  did it in 2012. I don’t think they’ll change the rules. You need to be a bit more logical. Firstly, we have to do “One More Dawn”, it’s the song you auditioned with. Secondly, if someone is going to pre-record their part instead of going on live, it’d make the most sense if it’s the instrument that’s hardest to stage. So that’d probably be Feuilly on drums or R on piano. And you’d really want the drums to be live, just because Enjolras is terrible at getting a rhythm from a recorded beat.”

All of a sudden, everyone in the room was staring at R. He tried to smile, but he knew it looked forced.

~

A month later Les Amis was in Denmark, going over choreography onstage during their first rehearsal as R and Joly watched from the empty stalls. R’s part had been recorded a week ago, and it was now booming through the stadium as the rest of the band worked through staging with the producers.

Courfeyrac had insisted he keep his signature move from their live concerts, running across the stage with his guitar slung over his shoulder. Jehan was worried he’d drop the guitar (its name was Sprout, no one was sure why) but the Danish stage could accommodate it, and so the move stayed.

R had told the others he was there to help with staging, but in reality he’d spent most of the morning just staring at Enjolras. The others looked exhausted after a long flight and early morning, but not their lead singer. The man practically shone under the bright lighting. 

It’d make R’s time in Denmark so much easier if he were angry. He could simply hole himself up in his hotel room for the week and wait for the rest of the band to seek him out and make him feel better. But he knew that he was a weak link, the easiest one to forget. He’d even been in love with Enjolras for the past two years but no one had noticed that either. If he were anyone else in the band, he’d forget R too.

Joly was making copious notes and muttering to himself as Les Amis walked through their performance again. R gave up and wandered back to their green room. He sighed and lay face down on one of the couches, giving into his sulking until the rest of the band came back from their meeting with the artistic director, and demanded he come out exploring the city with them.

As they walked through Amagertorv R dawdled at the back of the group, still feeling sorry for himself. He was so swept up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Enjolras walking next to him until the other man spoke. “R? I just wanted to say I’m sorry. That you’re not going to be onstage, I mean. You’re as much a part of Les Amis as the rest of us, and we should have fought for you.  _I_  should have fought for you.”

R grimaced, and looked away from the other man’s earnest expression. “That’s great and all, but you didn’t really have a choice. I know that. At least I got to tag along though, hey? Joly and I will be cheering the loudest for you all, and I still get to hang out with you all, that’s what’s important.”

Enjolras looked like he wanted to say more, but R decided he didn’t want to hear it. He jogged up to the front of the group, away from Enjolras and his suddenly frowning face, and pulled Jehan towards The Royal Cafe. “Jehan, I found this place online, I think you’ll like it.”

He avoided Enjolras for the rest of the afternoon.

~

France, as part of the Big Five, hadn’t needed to perform in any of the qualifying rounds, so Les Amis all piled into R’s hotel room to watch the semi-finals. When he half-heartedly complained he was immediately shushed by Courfeyrac and Bahorel, who threatened to sit on him if he kept whining through Valentina Monetta’s performance.

Combeferre had brought a huge box of junk food to share, leaving it near the door when it got too heavy to carry, and R wandered over in search of gummi worms. He stopped short though, when Enjolras appeared in front of him. Enjolras looked uncommonly serious, so R just sighed when his wrist was seized and he was dragged into the corridor. 

"Enjolras, there’s nothing to be sorry about, I swear I’m-"

He stopped suddenly as Enjolras let go of his wrist, only to lean in and tilt his chin up to kiss him on the mouth. Hard.

R gasped and leaned in, kissing back for a blissful second before reality hit and he pulled away.

"Don’t, Enjolras. I get it, you’re sorry, but pretending isn’t going to help. I’m not mad, just… don’t lie to me."

"No, R, that’s not what I-"

"Save it, Enjolras." And with that R span on his heel and walked back into the room. He tried not to notice that Enjolras never followed him back in.

~

It was finals night and R and Joly were in the green room, glued to the TV screen as France was announced. The stadium was dimmed as Les Amis took the stage, and all the audience could see was a glint from Enjolras’s guitar. 

The first few chords rang out and the stadium was filled with cheering as the lights slowly went up. Enjolras’s beautiful voice filled the room and for once R was glad he wasn’t onstage with them. He could listen to that voice forever. 

It was clear the audience loved Les Amis as much as R did - the entire crowd was clapping along, incoherent with delight as each member took a turn in the spotlight, cheering and whistling for Courfeyrac as he ran with his beloved guitar, screaming for more. 

When the last notes of “One More Dawn” rang out R watched the camera sweep over the crowd and his breath caught in his throat - they’d never had such a reaction, not from playing at home in Paris, not from their world tour. The cameras had to cut to the announcer but R and Joly could hear the screaming from the stadium as Les Amis began to leave the stage. 

Suddenly, the announcer mentioned something over the end of the song about Enjolras’s guitar, and R’s eyes immediately snapped to it. It wasn’t his usual red Fender Telecaster, but a white PRS with black scrawl over the body.

The camera zoomed in as R’s eyes craned to see the writing, and he felt the breath knocked out of his body as he read the words “J’aime Grantaire” on Enjolras’s guitar.

He sat down, dazed and confused, as Joly started proclaiming about the crowd to the rest of the room.

R knew it was time to head to the performers’ area, as the votes would be starting soon, but his legs were shaking and he knew he needed more time.

_J’aime Grantaire._

He’d used his stage name for so long that most people forgot his real name. Maybe that was why Enjolras had chosen it. But why use an international stage, where the entire world was watching? Was it a joke? It couldn’t be real.

~

_J’aime Grantaire._

The words were still whirling in his head as Joly dragged him through the crowds to France’s booth in the perfomers’ arena. He knew Joly was talking to him, he knew the rest of the tech team had been talking to him, but the only thing in his head was black writing on a white guitar.

They spotted French flags waving, and R was almost scared to reach the booth. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Enjolras standing there, eyes bright from the excitement of the show, but overwritten with anxiety as he stared at R.

"Did it work? I’ve been trying to tell you all week, but-"

R grabbed him by his collar and hauled him close, crushing his lips against Enjolras’s and relishing the way he returned the kiss, blocking out the rest of the world.

He pulled away with a grin, smiling up at Enjolras as he wrapped his arms around his waist. “Je t’aime aussi, Enjolras. I’ve wanted to tell you for years. I love you, and I always will.”

Enjolras grinned back at him and leaned forward to kiss him again, but R stopped him with a hand on his lips and a cheeky smile.

"No, wait. You can kiss me again after France wins."

Sitting through the voting was torture, but it was worth it when France won by douze points. 

Apparently the cheering was so loud they’d heard it a kilometre away. 

Enjolras and R hadn’t noticed.


End file.
